Seeing Sokka
by buttonfly
Summary: I've always sort of wondered what Sokka looks like." Toph's POV. Tokka.


I wish I knew what people looked like. I mean, I can "see" the vibrations they give off with earth bending, but I don't know what their faces look like. People have tried to explain, but I have nothing to reference to. I could tell you that Aang has grey eyes and blue tattoos on his head and hands and feet, but it doesn't mean anything to me. Grey? Blue? What? Exactly. And I know that Katara has brown hair and blue eyes. Sounds pretty. But I wouldn't know, would I? To tell the truth, I don't really care. I don't particularly want to know what people look like. Well, that's not entirely true. I've always sort of wondered what Sokka looks like. Like, to the point that this morning, I decide to "see" him...  
"Snoozles," I said casually. It was a lazy kind of day. We sat around, not doing anything in particular. Sokka was almost asleep, again, and seemed annoyed that I'd ruined his rest.  
"Huh?" he grunted. At this point, I was starting to feel butterflies. Just a little, like maybe this wasn't the best idea in the whole world.  
"What do you look like?" I asked. Then he sat up. He was curious, I could tell.  
"What do you mean?" he asked. Honestly, I didn't think it was that hard of a question to understand, but guys are just thick like that sometimes.  
"I mean, I want to know what you like," I replied. Probably a little harsher than I'd been going for.  
"Okay, well, I have brown hair and-" I cut him off with wave of my hand.  
"That doesn't mean anything to me," I told him.  
"Oh," he said. He sounded defeated, "Then what do you want me to say?"  
"Nothing," I said. That feeling of anxiety returned, just slightly stronger than before, "Just close your eyes and hold still."  
He did as he was told, but his curiosity was practically making him tremble. I know what's it's like to just want to know what's going on. So I reached out my hands, and as I did so, that tingly feeling returned. Much stronger that before. But I dismissed that, and softly laid my fingers on his face.  
"What are you doing?" he asked. In his voice, I heard a tiny bit of the same feeling I felt. I was really glad to find that he didn't squirm though; that he didn't stop me from touching his face.  
"I'm seeing you," I replied simply, "Now hold still." He clammed up.  
Starting on his cheeks, I began to run my fingers over his face. His skin is surprisingly smooth to touch. And his cheeks were warm, like he was blushing, but that I couldn't tell for sure. Then I ran my fingers over his closed eyes. Deep eyes. Quivering eyelashes. Down the bridge of his nose, I felt how it curves off slightly at the end. With one hand still touching his cheek, I found the top of his head and ran along his temple, then the funny curve of his ear, and the angle of his jaw leading down to a slightly pointed chin.  
I could tell he noticed that I hadn't touched his mouth. That I'd been careful to avoid it. I knew I had. I'd done it on purpose. But I didn't really know why.  
"You're very handsome," I told him, even if it wasn't true. He felt handsome, and that's all that mattered to me. He mumbled a "thanks."  
And then, feeling that overwhelming butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling again, I managed to brush my fingertips over his lips. I shivered, and I didn't quite know why. Slowly, I did it again, but the second time I stopped with my finger still on his mouth. I could feel his warm breath on my skin. His breathing was shaky, just like mine.  
"What's wrong?" I asked in a whisper, almost as if speaking loudly would disrupt this uncomfortable sort of peace we'd found.  
"I don't know," he whispered back. As he spoke, it felt like he was kissing my fingers. I shivered again, feeling incredibly warm. He felt the same way.  
"I can't tell," I whispered, even quieter than before.  
"What?" he asked in the same tone. I was still touching his lips lightly.  
"What your mouth looks like," I replied. My voice was barely audible.  
"Oh," he murmured. He seemed to by hypnotized or something. Could me just touching him do that?  
So, ever so softly, ignoring our heartbeats racing at a million miles an hour, I replaced the touch of my hand with one from my mouth. I still don't know what made me do it. But while I was there, I 

decided to find out exactly what Sokka's mouth looked like. And then, something I really didn't expect (as if I'd expected any of this) he kissed me back. I know we shouldn't have been, but, I couldn't help it. That was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt in my entire life. But, apparently he realized the same thing, you know, that this wasn't quite appropriate, and he pulled away. I felt even more anxious than before. Not to mention how spasmodic his heartbeat was.  
"I'm sorry," I said, I could feel the color rising into my face, "That was stupid, and-"  
This time he cut me off, "No," he said, "It's just- well, did you like what you saw?"  
I sighed with relief that he didn't hate me. And I couldn't hold back a small smile as I replied, "Very much."


End file.
